Page 94 of Wicked Tricks

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “why?”

I groaned, raking my fingers through my hair, “I need to see her.”

My phone buzzed twice from within my pocket, and I read the words that flashed across the screen from an unknown number.

“Our spot. Now.”

“Please.”

Bea shrugged, crossing her arms, “she ran out of here about an hour ago, I have no idea where she went.”

“It’s OK,” I said, turning on my heel to leave, “I do.”

She wanted to see me too.

As quickly as I raced up the stairs, I left.

I started the car and revved it before I pulled out into traffic, cutting at least four cars off in doing so. Taking the now familiar drive out of the city, my fingers drummed on the steering wheel with impatience. Stepping on the brake, my tyres squealed beneath me as I made the sharp turn onto the road leading to the lookout.

I knew it, something inside of me just knew it.

I knew that she had to have felt something for me, whatever that was.

As hard as she tried to deny it, I could see it in those antagonising honey-coloured eyes of hers. There was something there.

I sped up the mountain, pushing the limits of my car once again, and as I made it to the top - I was hit with a sense of deja vu. Only a short while ago, I didn’t even know that this spot existed.

Now, it was easily my favourite place in the city.

Even though the last time we had been here, Rome had been close to killing me.

So quickly, things had changed drastically from one point to the other, and then back again. Our short relationship had been a roller coaster, a game of chicken.

Both of us, indulging each other’s tricks.

Both of us, too stubborn to back out.

Both of us, too prideful to be the first to say no.

I didn’t know where things would go from here, but I knew from the moment that I met her - that I had met my match.

That I had met my ultimate opponent.

I knew that there would be no winners in the game we were playing, but no longer did I care about winning or losing.

I only cared about having her for myself.

A car was parked, but still running, near the bushes under the bottle-brush tree that hung over the green fence. I could hear the quiet reverb of the music that played from inside it. Parking at the opposite end of the lot, I got out and strode hesitantly towards the car.

I didn’t want to wait anymore, I needed to see her.

The car door opened, and I stopped in my tracks.

A tall blonde woman, who was not Rome, stepped out. I did not recognise her, but I could tell by her expression that she recognised me.

“Hello, Antoni,” she said, holding up a slick grey gun and pointing it toward me.

My shoulders dropped, and I sighed.

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